


Character Dissonance

by DanielleAries



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock (TV) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-06-10 15:46:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6963058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanielleAries/pseuds/DanielleAries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm not Molly Hooper now. And you're not Sherlock Holmes, Benedict."</p><p>"I'm not Loo, Sherlock. Sorry."</p><p>After the Fall, things took a tumble in a different way. AU Reality Swap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Popcorn_Lover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Popcorn_Lover/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG inspired by Popcorn_Lover's Sherlolly in Wonderland story, in which Sherlock and Molly got switched with their actor counterparts; down here, it's just Sherlock and his counterpart. I'm interested to know how Sherlock would interact with the people in the real world, and vice versa with Benedict. Apologies in advance for any wrong technicalities or facts or major plotholes encountered! My writing's a bit rusty, so this story won't be too long D:

Lazarus. Falling. Concrete ground-

Sherlock jerked awake, eyes almost popping out in shock. He sat up, breathing pattern erratic, before forcing himself to calm down by reciting the Periodic Table in reverse in his head.

"Hey, hey, everything's alright."

Feminine voice. Soft. Familiar.

"Benedict, go lie down."

Sherlock turned his head to the right, frowning at the owner of the voice. Seated on a chair next to the bed he was apparently in but had no recollection of climbing on (hospital bed, familiar scent of disinfectant, beeps of hospital machinery), Molly wore a worried expression on her face. "Benedict, go and lie down, alright?" she urged once more, this time in a quieter voice.

Her hand on his shoulder felt oddly comforting, and having no idea on how he had made it here allowed him to calm a little. "Wh-what happened?" he croaked out, half-disgusted by the way his voice sounded weak.

Molly quickly grabbed a glass of water on the bedside table and brought it over to him; she guided the rim to his lips and tilted the glass a little, and he allowed himself this moment of vulnerability and for her to help him drink some water, if only because he was still disoriented by whatever that had happened.

He lightly shook his head, indicating that he had enough, and she put the glass down. "Well, to answer your question," she said, turning back to him as she helped him lie down on his back, in which he also allowed her to do so, "you somehow got a concussion after the fall."

"Fall?"

"Yeah, the rooftop scene? You fell onto the inflatable platform below, but somehow the impact was great on your head; you've been out for about 4 hours now, and everyone was worried sick about you."

Sherlock tried to process the information in his head, but his state of mind still did not feel up to par. "Rooftop scene?" he finally questioned.

"Yeah, the end of The Reichenbach Fall episode?" Molly clarified. "It was the confrontation scene between you and Moriarty; you fell after he shot himself, then you were supposed to roll over and drop down from the platform. But you didn't, and that was when we suspected something went wrong, so the crew came over and carried you out."

Everything she was saying was making his head hurt because none of them made any sense. This was not the plan they had agreed on. "Molly, what episode are you talking about? Reichenbach's the alias of Moriarty; are you referring to the media's top headlines? Also, what crew? Where was the Homeless Network?"

Molly stared at him for a long time. Then she spoke again, this time in a slower voice. "I'm not Molly Hooper now. And you're not Sherlock Holmes, Benedict. I think you need to take a rest; the impact must be so great you're starting to think you are your character."

//

Benedict jolted awake and found himself in a dark room, lying on a bed. The sound of a hush to his right caused him to turn his head in that direction, but slowly because his head and neck seemed to hurt.

"Hey, you alright?"

Before he could get a word in, the feminine voice interrupted herself. "Sorry, you're not alright, of course, I know. Silly of me to ask."

The voice - such familiarity in an unknown place. "L-Loo, is that you?"

He heard a sharp intake of breath. "I'm- I'm not Loo. But if you need them, I could ask Mycroft to get-"

"Mycroft? No, I don't- Loo, what happened?"

"Sherlock, our plan worked, but you seemed to have receive a nasty blow on the head. I know you'll resist, but we need to ask you to rest for a few days before you're declared fit to go undercover."

"Plan? Undercover?" The episode was supposed to end with a graveyard scene; there was no talk about continuing past that point into undercover and whatnot. "Loo, what's going on?"

"I'm not Loo, Sherlock. Sorry. Maybe I'd better ask Mycroft, shall I?"

//

Having insisted that he was all right to walk, Sherlock took in the sight before him; he was no actor, but he could recognise a film set when he saw one, and this was a large film set. So many people in one place, moving about chattering about this and that; so many others asked after him, enquiring as to his condition now. So many people being concerned about him - about Benedict - and it was suffocating.

Molly - Louise, he had come to learn her name after someone by the name of Steven called her as such when he came over to the hospital room he was in - seemed to be able to sense his discomfort, for she was always by his side, guiding him around with a hand on his arm and answering the questions for him, while he tried to process what was happening.

The fall must have caused some sort of shift in the Universe, he finally decided, although he was disinclined on fully believing it because it was illogical. Maybe it was all a prank by Mycroft, and if so, it was a very large and elaborate one at that, although why in at such a crucial time he did not know. He was tired of it already, and had decided to give his older brother a piece of his mind, when said brother appeared in his line of sight.

Sherlock immediately went towards him, dragging a surprised Louise on tow; he noticed him surrounded by so many people, a situation both brothers despised greatly to be in, but perhaps for this prank, he was willing to endure it? He was about to call out for his brother in casual clothing that was beneath him or his expensive tastes when someone called him 'Mark'.

"Benedict, you're not supposed to be walking around just yet," 'Mark' chided when he noticed the younger man. "Go back to your room now - we'll film the other remaining scenes and then when you're better, we'll wrap things up with you, so don't worry."

"And how far are you going to take this prank, Mycroft?" he hissed out his brother's name; that caught the attention of the people around them and silence slowly fell in the group.

Sherlock seemed not to notice, however, and instead it encouraged him to go on, "It's time you stop playing games and get back to real work; you know the network's still around - why are you-"

"Sorry, Mark - Benedict thinks himself as Sherlock," Louise interrupted, the hand still on his arm squeezing it as a warning for him to shut up. "The fall did a number on him, I'm afraid; I was just bringing him around, hoping to jog his memory."

Mark gave her a smile. "That's alright." He then turned to Sherlock. "Benedict - or Sherlock, no matter which one you are - you really need a rest; Benedict, you've been working too hard for too long, so you're already in need of overdue rest, and Sherlock, you need to rest anyway because you never allow yourself to do so."

He then patted him on the shoulder. "There's no sort of danger now. You go and rest - the world's safe."

Louise and Mark exchanged a few words, but Sherlock was not listening to their conversation. So many theories were trying to clutter his mind, and he was getting frustrated at the lack of answers, either by said theories or from his new environment.

He felt a tug at his arm, shattering his thoughts like glass, and he looked down at the petite woman. Her eyes - they looked exactly like Molly's. "Benedict, let's go back," she said in a softer voice, and he found himself nodding because she also sounded exactly like Molly.

//

"He thinks himself as 'Benedict'. And he called me 'Loo'."

Benedict might have been hit on the head and passed out for a while now, but he was fairly sure his hearing abilities had recovered, and hearing Loo talk like that was a little discomforting. Mark stood beside her in his Mycroft garb, eyes narrowed and silently assessing his being. Terrified would be the perfect word to describe his emotion now.

"Loo- I mean, Molly, I can hear you over here," he decided to call out, frightening the woman and making her eyes wide open, as if she never expected to be called out.

"Sherlock," Mark - Mycroft - merely said. Benedict felt himself unconsciously tense up.

He then frowned. "Mycroft...?" Damn, it wasn't supposed to come out as a question.

"You stay here and recover," the older Holmes brother dictated, eyes never wavering from his face. "I will check on you tomorrow. Hopefully by then, you'll be rid of this amnesia and immediately start on the more important work."

Mycroft walked out the door, and Benedict felt himself breathe better. Mark in character hardly ever intimidate him; maybe because there was no evidence of the film crew here-

"Loo, where's the film crew?" he blurted out, head swivelling around to look at her.

"Sherlock, you heard Mycroft - it's better you rest now. Maybe you'll be alright-"

"Loo, just stop it, alright?" He was starting to panic. Never had a prank gone this far into character before, and it was unsettling.

He heard her quiet voice moments later. "I will, if you'll stop calling me Loo, cos I'm...not Loo. Sorry."

"No. M-Molly, I'm sorry. Please forgive me - it's been...shocking, to say the least, when I woke up, so I'm...confused. But if this is a prank, you all done great, so please call it off. My head hurts."

He saw her darken figure move within the room, and her dainty little face came into view. He took in her pathologist outfit, her messy ponytail, her tired eyes. "It's- the plan worked, Sherlock, that's all. Moriarty shot himself, and now you'll go undercover to dismantle his web once you're okay. It's your and Mycroft's plan; it's- it's not a prank."


	2. To Appreciate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second, and last chapter! Omg thank you MizJoely, Layla22 and POPCORN_LOVER for commenting! :3 I love Molly so muchy, I might have given her an appreciation chapter on this, sorry .-.

Barely 10 minutes had lasped before Sherlock found himself extremely bored on the hospital bed; the doctor insisted on 'Benedict' to take a rest, thus he was now not allowed to move anywhere out of the room. Louise had gone down to the film set and would be bringing lunch up when she came to visit again.

Other cast members came up to see him - Benedict - and the way they acted was unsettling. John was a lot more snarkier than he last remembered, Greg happier, and Mrs Hudson - no, she was still too doting for his own good. But they were all still acting differently, since his last memory of them was during the case.

John - Martin was smiling as he talked to the other members, and it was...odd, for lack of a better word, to see him as such, given that the last time he saw him, he was on the ground; they were on the phone, he had left him a 'note', John sounded panicky, then he let his body fall-

"You hungry, Benedict?"

Martin's face came into view, and Sherlock forced himself to focus on him. He was still smiling, although there was a hint of worry etched in his face. He must have heard how he had acted earlier on.

"No," he automatically replied before he caught himself (he was Benedict now, not Sherlock - Benedict is normal, and normal people eat when in hospital, right?) and hastily added, "But Louise is bringing food up. I'll eat then."

He saw the blond nod and move away. Mrs Hudson - Una - fussed around him while Greg - Rupert - gave him advice to stay in bed and recover.

Louise came knocking on the door a half-hour later, and brought with her Mycroft - Mark - and lunch. As she unpacked and passed over a packet of food to him, the noise in the room increased as everyone chatted amongst themselves. Never had he seen so many familiar faces feel so unfamiliar to him, and Sherlock was tempted to deduce the hell out of everyone but forced himself not to do so because...well, Benedict doesn't do that, does he?

//

"Thank you," Benedict murmurred when Molly passed him a glass of water. The room now had the lights turned on, so when he looked up at her, it was just in time for him to watch her face turn slightly red.

"You're welcome," she whispered.

"Also, thank you. For, uh, helping me execute the plan," he blurted out. From the script, he knew Molly was an integral part of the plan, being the one working behind the scenes to make sure Sherlock did not die during the fall, and to cover up his supposed death in order to trick Moriarty's henchmen. That was all he knew for that last episode of series 2, and though he doubted that everything that had happened in said episode was an exact replica of what seemed to have happened in this universe, he figured that the basis of the story would be the same, if him being told that 'Sherlock' would be going undercover after the fall was anything to go by. 

"That's nothing, Sherlock," she said dismissively, waving it off with a small smile.

"No - that's not nothing, and you know it," he argued, causing her to frown at him.

"Sherlock, you're the one going undercover and doing all those difficult stuff. And Mycroft's going to be your aid or intelligence or whatever that secret agents call it. The Homeless Network's going to keep an eye on everyone. I just followed Mycroft's orders and signed the fake autopsy papers, that's all."

"No, Molly." Benedict liked Molly as a character as the series went on, and with Loo playing her fantastically and bringing the character to life, he felt that Molly deserved a little more recognition. "You risked your career for this. What if everything blows up in our faces? What if something went wrong? You'll be affected, and that's not nothing."

"You're really being negative," she commented, surprised at the direction of his thoughts.

"Molly, I said it before, and I'll say it again: you do count. I do trust you. Everything you've done for me, it's not for nothing."

Without realising it, he leaned forward to kiss her cheek. "Thank you. Truly."

As he leaned back, Molly let out a self-conscious laugh as she turned her head the other way; if he saw her eyes water just a little, or her turning a little redder in the face, he did not mention it.

//

"Benedict!"

Sherlock pulled himself out of his Mind Palace and back into reality, where Louise was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He looked around the room to see that everyone else had left, and peace had once again reigned.

"You haven't eaten a single thing," she said, pointing to the abandoned packet of food that she had brought up earlier on for him.

"Not hungry," was his reply, to which he received an eyeroll from her. It was certainly odd, seeing this Molly lookalike roll her eyes, much less talk at length in his presence; he was familiar with Molly stuttering and blushing and being selfconscious, but those moments where she helped him in the lab to lay down the foundations of the plan were the ones he found that he had appreciated the most - the Molly helping him out was confident in her skills and intelligence, determined to make the plan a success, and coherent in her explanations.

"You're really acting weird, you know that?" she replied, a loopsided smile on her face. "You're an amazing actor, but you've never stayed in character after shooting. In fact, you always eat after shooting, but here you are, claiming you're not hungry. The impact must really be bad."

"What if I'm not in character?" he retaliated, turning his head to face her.

Louise let out a hum before she leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. "Tell me - what do you think of Molly?"

"What does Molly have to do with everything?" he asked, frowning.

"Oh, nothing," she said dismissively. "Just the fact that I play Molly, and I think she should get a better job."

"Better job?"

"Yeah. Somewhere far away from everything she knows. From someone she knows."

"You're being ridiculous. Molly wouldn't do that," Sherlock huffed, and was about to close his eyes to go back to his Mind Palace when Louise spoke.

"You think she wouldn't? Why not? The man she helped fake his death would be going undercover soon, the very same man who she has been trying to get his attention for quite some time now. He'll be leaving, for God knows how long, and she'll be left hanging. She's an independent woman with a sustainable career, but she's not getting any younger."

"And what are you suggesting she do?" he replied a moment later, though through gritted teeth.

"Move out. Get a new position somewhere, working with colleagues who don't merely use her to gain access to body parts."

"I don't merely use her for access to body parts." His reply was sharp and sudden. "She helps me in my investigations as a pathologist, and takes interest in my experiments as a scientist. Her suggestions are logical and coherent, and she helps bounce ideas whenever I require outside input. I seek her company because she's a good one; Molly doesn't need to go anywhere."

"So you go looking for her?"

He blinked, having had his train of thoughts derailed at the question. "Pardon?"

"You said you seek her company, so it means you actively go looking for her, then?"

"I don't have to say anything about that," he bit out. Then reluctantly added, "However, amongst all the other pathologists, she is the most hardworking and attentive, so it's only logical for me to go to her for my investigations and experiments."

"Right," she said, dragging out the word; he ignored the smirk on her face.

A moment later, she spoke up again. "Does she know you appreciate her help?"

Sherlock glanced at her from the corner of his eye. The smirk had left her face, and instead she was looking at him intently. "She..." he fumbled around for words, before he tried again. "I do say thank you. To her."

"Huh. Not enough times, if everything I've encountered playing as Molly was anything to go by."

"Molly knows I appreciate her," he bit out, already feeling uncomfortable by the way she was making him feel...exposed.

"Does she?"

The room fell into silence. A few minutes later, Louise stretched in her seat and stood up. "Well, that was a weird experience, talking to you who's in-character as if Sherlock's real."

Before Sherlock could retort, she continued on, grabbing the uneaten packet of food. "I'll just bring this home, then, Benedict. You sure you don't want to eat?"

He stared at the packet before nodding. "No, just...leave it there. I'll eat later."

She lifted an eyebrow in surprise, but obliged and left the packet on the table. "I'll be off now, then," she declared. "Hopefully after you sleep, things will get better."

She leaned in to give him a peck on the cheek. Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows, unused to the gesture; Louise, however, laughed lightly at his expression. "Oh Benedict, don't act so Sherlock - it's just a kiss, and I've given you a few before! It's also not like Sherlock never give out kisses anyway!"

"But he hardly receives them," he muttered, a little confounded.

She heard him, though, and shook her head, a smile in place. "Maybe one day, he'll receive one from someone other than Mrs Hudson, huh? Maybe from Molly herself, who knows? Series 3 hasn't been written yet, so there's so much potential."

She patted him on the shoulder before she moved out of the room. "Nights, Benedict."

"Goodnight, Molly."

//

"You need to rest. I'll leave you to sleep," Molly said, standing up from her chair.

She and Benedict both had been quiet after his unexpected kiss on her cheek. Luckily, Mycroft never came back, or his PA or any of his agents for that matter - if there was any talk about his upcoming adventure into dismantling the network, he would freak out because he was nowhere near being Sherlock Holmes himself, and he would most definitely be jeopardising the plan by being clueless about it in the first place. The future idea of series 3 never went into much detail about the undercover aspect of the hiatus, but Sherlock made it out alive anyway. The how of it was left out. If Benedict was doomed to be stuck in this universe, the undercover could most likely be the death of him because this was no film shooting - this was real life.

Sounds of a glass being filled up with water brought him back to reality, and he watched as Molly gently placed the glass back on the table. Once done, she looked to him and give him a small smile.

"Thank you again, Molly Hooper," he said, smiling in return.

"You say 'thank you' a lot today," she noticed, letting out a laugh.

"I don't say it enough, and you deserve it."

"Well, you go to sleep. I'll see you tomorrow, maybe, if Mycroft needs me or anything."

Benedict leaned forward to once again kiss her on the cheek. "I need you, and that's reason enough."

"O-okay," she whispered, blushing. She stood awkwardly near his bed before nodding and turning around to exit the room. "Nights, Sherlock."

"Goodnight," he replied, and when the door closed behind her, he leaned back and let out a sigh.

It had been a crazy day. What a strange dream all this was, although it felt so real. Hopefully it was a dream, indeed - if it were real...

//

Benedict jerked awake, eyes almost popping out in shock. He sat up, breathing pattern erratic, before forcing himself to calm down.

"Hey, hey, everything's alright."

Feminine voice. Soft. Familiar.

"Benedict, go lie down."

"Loo?"

"Yeah. Just lie down, alright? Be gentle with your head - you were out for 4 hours after that fall, must have hurt real bad."

"Wow, I had the strangest dream. You were Molly, and I was Sherlock, and I was to go undercover after I recovered, but the thing was I never got in-character. I was myself, and you couldn't recognise me as Benedict, only as Sherlock."

"Ahaha, what a strange dream indeed."

//

Sherlock jolted awake and found himself in a dark room, lying on a bed. The sound of a hush to his right caused him to turn his head in that direction, but slowly because his head and neck seemed to hurt.

"Hey, you alright?"

Before he could get a word in, the feminine voice interrupted herself. "Sorry, you're not alright, of course, I know. Silly of me to ask."

"Molly."

"You just took a nasty fall, of course you're not alright, sorry-"

"Thank you."

"Oh. Um, for what?"

"For everything."

"That's nothing, Sherlock."

"Not only this. I mean everything. In the lab, during my investigations. I appreciate your help."

"Oh. That's alri- oh."

"Thank you. Also, since I've given you a kiss on the cheek, would you care to reciprocate?"

"Oh, um, okay."

"Lovely. Now I can say Mrs Hudson isn't the only one to have kissed me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end! Thanks for reading this cracky little fic - I appreciate it!


End file.
